


Rise/Set

by Granger4013



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 18:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Granger4013/pseuds/Granger4013
Summary: Sunrise, sunsetBeginnings, endingsEvery relationship finds its own rhythm and to those gentle, assured rhythms of light, Myka and Helena find theirs.





	Rise/Set

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sralinchen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sralinchen/gifts).



> I'll be perfectly honest and say I'm not 100% sure what this is. A series of vignettes? A small fix-it? A random dose of words on the page? All of the above? I'm not sure I'll ever decide. However, above all this is a gift, because a lovely member of this fandom has been sending me sunrise or sunset pictures everyday for a year, and I had promised her should we reach that anniversary, a gift would be coming her way. It's a quiet attempt at a thank you, that's what it is.

Helena had come back at sunrise. She had thought—foolishly—that she would be able to sneak into the B&B without notice. She had thought—again foolishly—that she would be able to give herself a few small hours to reintegrate herself into the house, to let her lungs remember the particular way that cinnamon and fresh linen always hung in the air, to let her feet remember the subtle creaks of the stairs, to let her body itself remember what it felt like to be within the comforting confines of the walls themselves. She had thought she would have some time to settle, to breathe, to sink into her decision to return, to rehearse—for the thousandth time—what she would say to everyone when they awoke, what she would say to Myka…

Foolish.  
Completely foolish.

Because when she pulled up to the B&B…there was Myka Bering, with a cup of coffee in her hand whch was wafting steam in front of her face, rocking easily in one of the porch chairs. Myka initially seemed oblivious to the intruder on her morning reflections, her eyes seeking the horizon, as the initial rush of yellows, oranges, and rose-tinted pinks broke brilliantly into the sky, painting her in a blinding vision of light and beauty and more things than Helena could find proper words for. 

It was the thump of Helena’s car door that finally drew Myka’s attention away from the watercolor vision of the sunrise, and when her eyes met Helena’s, well, Helena hadn’t thought anything could quite rival the sunrise that morning, but yet again that thought was entirely…foolish. A smile that shone with the cascade of light bathing the B&B broke immediately over Myka’s face as she rose, without a hint of hesitation in her step, and leaned against the porch beam, speaking softly, but most assuredly, “Hey stranger…”

Every word that Helena had planned flew entirely out of her brain. Every word that she _knew_ flew entirely out of her brain. She just stood there in abject, slightly stunned silence, while Myka continued to stare at her with that damned crooked smile on her face. 

As if sensing that Helena needed _time_ , Myka stepped carefully off of the porch, leaving enough space between them to allow for footing to be found, close enough to touch, but not close enough to intrude. Her eyes strayed over Helena’s shoulder, continuing to ponder the horizon as the sun crept ever closer to its early morning zenith. Eventually, her eyes settled back on Helena and her smile eased into something a little less brilliant, something more _knowing_ , “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“I didn’t think anyone would be awake.” Words, entirely non-sequitar words, suddenly tripped off of Helena’s tongue without any measure of eloquence. 

Myka laughed softly and shrugged her shoulders, “I just thought…this might be a good morning to watch the sunrise…”

“I’m glad.” Helena had never felt so inarticulate in her entire life, _lives_. 

“Me too. “ Myka nodded her head back towards the house, “So, tea?”

“Yes…yes, tea would be lovely.”

Myka stepped just a hair closer, causing Helena to suck in a breath wondering if Myka was going to be so bold as to entirely obliterate any thoughts, plans, ideas that Helena had had about _how this would go_ , but instead, Myka simply slipped her hand into Helena’s with a light squeeze. It didn’t truly feel like a signal of _anything_ , but instead just a quiet assurance, a grounding, a promise that Helena was, much like the sun now properly risen in the sky, _home_.

**

Small, tentative steps. That’s what it took for Helena to find her balance once again amongst the entire Warehouse family, though the steps she took, or didn’t take, around Myka seemed to be the ones that she found herself stumbling over most, the ones that needed to be taken at the tiniest of intervals, with the utmost care. 

She didn’t know _why_ that was the case. She had come back _for_ Myka, _because of_ Myka. Of course, her brain strove to remind her that it was more than that, that she came back for the Warehouse, for a job she loved, for a place where she fit, for a family that truly did care for her, for her _truth_ , but deep down, she knew, _her heart_ , knew that it was all because of Myka. Yet, she kept finding her steps faltering in the face of Myka’s openness, her willingness to start anew, or to restart what hadn’t even truly _been started_ between them. 

They had had coffee. They had gone out to dinner, an entirely relaxed, utterly happy evening that had shown Helena exactly what she and Myka _could be_ if her feet would just move her in the right direction. They had talked, _endlessly_ , about Wisconsin, about her decision to come back, about her hopes for the future, though that future was spoken of in generalities mostly centered around work, rather than a specific future centered around her heart, around _them_. They had sat in silence, both focused contentedly on the books in their laps, only occasionally stealing glances over bindings and pages, and yet, Helena’s feet still stumbled.

It took three weeks, three weeks of steps forwards and backwards, of steps retraced and newly trodden, for something to shift, and once again it was purely because Myka’s feet were firmly, assuredly on the ground and moving in a direction she was sure of. 

Helena had retired to the back porch after dinner, enjoying the way that the breeze was blowing in through the screened in walls, bringing with it the promise of a deeper warmth not too far away. She was standing, looking out across the back yard that gave way to an entirely flat landscape which met nothing but the horizon where the sun was quickly setting in a molten shock of gold and crimson. The silence, the stillness of the scene had settled her, instilled a peace within her brain that had thus far proven elusive since her return, but into that silence footsteps broke through, footsteps which she knew could only belong to Myka.

“Do you know I’ve never liked dancing,” Myka stated plainly, as she came up to stand next to Helena, their shoulders barely brushing together. 

Helena leveled a ponderous gaze at Myka, puzzled and utterly confused by this statement which seemed to have come out of the blue, with zero indication of its intention. 

Myka didn’t let Helena respond, but simply kept on talking, her words addressed to the sunset, “I don’t think I ever really _got_ it, dancing, its purpose, its reasoning. I always felt like I spent more time focusing on making sure that I didn’t step on my partner’s toes and thus didn’t really end up enjoying any aspect of it. Plus, all that coming together and then pulling apart, I always found myself just wanting to be _still_ , to share the same space as my partner without having to worry about all the _dancing_.”

Despite her feet not knowing what to do with themselves since she returned, Helena was grateful that her _words_ seemed to have returned, along with some of her confidence and what Claudia apparently _lovingly_ referred to as _snark_. “Is this your way of telling me that we should stick to dinner and a movie?”

Myka turned to Helena then, as if the sunset had become definitively less interesting. Her gaze was steady, certain, but still with a hint of curiosity there, almost a shade of playfulness, “I’m telling you that I don’t like _dancing_.”

“I’ve gathered that darling, though I can’t quite figure out why. I mean, yes, I get why you dislike dancing, but not exactly why we have found ourselves on this particular train of conversation seemingly out of nowhere.”

“Because that’s what we’ve been doing since you got back. Dancing.”

“Dancing?” Helena couldn’t help the slight quirk of her lips at the question, despite the rapidity with which her heart had started to pound at the focus of Myka’s gaze, the seeming intent of her words.

“Yes,” Myka nodded, “dancing. We’ve been dancing around each other, and as I said, I don’t like dancing. I don’t like all of this whirling around, taking careful steps to make sure we don’t bruise each other’s toes. I don’t like feeling like we keep coming together only to pull back apart.”

“You want to be still…”

“I want to be still, with you, next to you, in any general proximity of you that I can manage.”

“That’s a lot of stillness…” Just like that Helena’s brain to mouth function ceased proper usage. The words she had thought she had found were once again utterly elusive, slipping off of her tongue as though she didn’t even know what she had said.

“Well, we’ve done a lot of dancing, one would say it requires equal and opposite stillness.”

“And how do you propose we go about said stillness?”

Myka sighed, stepping just a hair closer, “You see? We’re doing it even now, dancing. All these words back and forth, when I really just want to be…”

“Still…” If her words weren’t going to work, Helena somehow finally convinced her feet to work, eliminating any possible space left between them, and tilting up on slightly raised toes to lightly brush her lips against Myka’s. 

Helena had meant for it to be a small thing, a small step in the direction of finding the right path, the right footing, but before she could pull away, Myka’s hands gently wrapped around her hips and pulled her in close, finding Helena’s lips once again, but with a bit more purpose than that first hesitant brush of breath. 

They stayed like that, softly swaying in the dying light of the sunset, hands casually roaming, fingers cascading through hair, small exhalations exchanged between short pauses. 

Only when darkness had well and properly descended, the sun no longer visible to any degree, did they actually part, but just barely. Helena rocked down onto her heels, Myka’s forehead resting against hers. She whispered into the newly fallen dark, “You want stillness.”

“I want you…”

**

And so a pattern began for them, firsts, lasts, beginnings, middles, endings; all set to the rhythm of a rising and setting sun.

**

“When will you be back?” Myka whispered, unwilling to let the desperation, the _pathetic_ desperation that she felt rising in her throat break through.

Helena licked her lips, eyes darting away from Myka’s with guilt, “The Regents have been woefully silent on that front. They simply said it was a mission only I could help with, they were quite scant on the rest of the details.”

“I don’t like this. That, I mean, the silence, the lack of details.” 

“I don’t either, darling.”

Myka’s eyes fell to where her hands were fidgeting in front of her, twisting and tangling with each other in a vain attempt to control her nerves, “I don’t like _this_ either…you leaving…indefinitely.’

Helena tucked a finger under Myka’s chin, drawing her gaze upward. She swiped a thumb across Myka’s cheekbone with a delicate smile, “I will come back, I promise you that, Myka.”

“Don’t…”

“Make promises I can’t keep, yes, I know, but you know what I’m saying, implying, Myka. I’m not _leaving_.”

“I know, I know that…” Myka swiped furiously at her eyes, trying to hide the tears that were quickly betraying her. She held a hand up to shield her eyes from the sunrise which was becoming blinding, “Damn sun…getting in my eyes…”

Helena chuckled softly, willing to give Myka that one concession, that her tears were obviously born from a glaring sun, and not from Helena’s absence for an as yet to be determined length of time.

At the crunch of tires, Helena glanced behind her. Her car had arrived; her car which she knew contained Mrs. Frederic in the backseat with her “further instructions.”

“Leave it to the bloody Regents to schedule a pick up when the sun is barely awake.”

Myka tried to smile, to acknowledge the slightly playful angst in Helena’s voice, but all she managed was a faint grimace, “You can sleep on the plane.”

“Indeed…”

The car pulled up next to them, a window rolling down smoothly. Mrs. Frederic’s voice carried from the window, “Agent Bering…Agent Wells. Helena, it’s time.”

Helena sighed heavily, with an acknowledging nod. She drew Myka to her and placed a gentle kiss to her lips, “I will call you _as soon as I can_.”

“You better…”

Helena chuckled, “I promise.” She turned to open the car door, but was pulled back by Myka’s grip around her wrist. She eyed Myka questioningly, “Darling?”

“I love you.” It was definitive, simple, without question or hesitation. After she practically blurted the words out, Myka grinned, almost as if she was in shock, “Wow, did _not_ mean to just kind of shout that at you.” She pulled Helena closer, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “I love you.” This time it was much softer, gentler, more of a caress than an actual sentence spoken.

Now it was Helena’s turn to fumble away tears, but she didn’t seek to blame them on the light, on the sun, on anything other than Myka’s words, “I love you too, so very much.”

“Be safe…”

“Always.”

**

It took months, _months_ , for their first fight to happen. They had carefully avoided it as best they could, but sometimes, something has to give, something breaks and the fall becomes…inevitable.

“Myka, we _have_ to talk about this. Surely, you know that,” Helena fumed from where she was standing at the window, watching in frustration as Myka packed her suitcase.

Myka shot Helena an incredulous look, “Of course I know that. _However_ ,” she gestured at the suitcase lying on the bed, “I have to go.”

“We _just_ got back from a mission. A mission where _you almost died_. How on earth is it responsible for you to be going back out into the field?”

“Steve and Claudia are in France and _you_ leave tomorrow to deal with whatever latest thing the Regents need you for. There is _no one else_ except me and Pete.”

“You know I cannot control when they call me out.” Helena had wanted her tone to be biting, but it had lost a bit of its force, and she hated how petulant she sounded.

Myka, however, was doing nothing except finding _more_ force, “Precisely, and _I_ cannot control when an artifact goes haywire and I have to leave, so I guess we’re in the same boat.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “Maybe it is better that we can’t talk about this now…you are clearly not in the mood.”

“You are exactly right. I am in _no_ mood to deal with this right now. I am exhausted and sore and _packing_ , so this isn’t exactly the time for you to be dissecting every single move I made over the last three days. This isn’t the time to be lecturing me with your opinions on my job performance.”

“Myka, you know that isn’t…”

“It doesn’t matter what it is or isn’t, Helena.” Myka snapped her suitcase shut, and its sound was as much a signal of the completion of her packing as it was a sign that their conversation was over. She heaved the case off of the bed. “I have to go.”

“As you mentioned,” Helena huffed, arms folded across her chest.

Something seemed to wilt a little in Myka’s shoulders, and when she spoke her voice sounded more like her own, “I do not want to leave with things like this.”

“Neither do I, but seeing as we have no time to finish this conversation, I don’t see any other remedy.” Helena wanted to give in, to let the ice that had been sitting in her chest since she had watched a madman lunge at Myka while she was powerless to stop him, melt a little bit, but she couldn’t. If anything, that ice seemed to harden within her, steeling her, reminding her that _this feeling_ was what came with loving, the threat of loss, the threat of not being in control, the threat of heartbreak. 

Myka sighed, recognizing instantly when Helena had become immovable. She stepped up to her rigid form and left a kiss to her cheek, “I will call you when we land.”

Helena nodded, lips tight in a thin line, but didn’t say anything.

Myka dipped her head to catch Helena’s eye, “And you? You’ll call me when you get to wherever it is that the Regents are spiriting you off to?”

“Of course.”

Myka waited, waited to move, waited to see if Helena would say anything else, waited to see if Helena would move herself, but there was nothing, only stillness and silence. 

“Mykes! Come on!” Pete’s voice echoed outside the door accompanied by a quick pound against it.

Myka opened her mouth to say something, _anything_ else, but she couldn’t find a thing to say and so she simply grabbed her suitcase and left, glancing over her shoulder as she shut the door to find that Helena had already turned away, staring out the window as if nothing else existed.

It was only when Helena heard the door definitively snap behind her that she let out the sob that she had been holding tight in her chest. She laid a palm against the pane of glass in front of her, relishing the chill it brought. Through her tears, she barely registered that through the window and across the horizon, the sun was going down.

**

Myka was waiting outside on the porch with two steaming cups of tea when the car pulled up to drop Helena off.

Helena’s smile upon seeing her was a conflicted combination of relief and exhaustion. She climbed the steps of the porch slowly, gratefully accepting the proffered mug, taking a careful sip before properly looking at Myka. She smiled a bit more freely, “It’s early…the sun is barely up.”

“I was up…I’ve been up, actually…waiting…for you…” Myka reached a hand out to delicately trace along Helena’s jaw, grateful to once again be close enough to touch her, to reassure herself that Helena was real, present, within reach. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Helena nodded against Myka’s palm, “I am too, darling.”

“We’ll…we’ll still need to talk…”

“Of course, but for now, I want nothing more than to take this cup of tea and you up to bed and sleep for the foreseeable future.”

Myka grinned, “That can be arranged.” She leaned in and kissed Helena softly, “I’m glad you’re home.”

Helena tucked her hand into Myka’s and pulled her towards the front door of the B&B, “Me too, my love, me too.”

**

Two years, two years of suitcases and two minute phone calls between missions. Two years of weeks without a ping, huddled inside of the B&B reading, talking, writing, the conversation never seeming to stop. Two years of heart-pounding, blood churning passion, of annoyed looks over the breakfast table whether at them or the too thin walls they couldn’t really say. Two years of not perfection, but as wondrous as the two of them could ever have hoped for. Two years of beginnings, endings, and everything in between.

Helena stood in the doorway of the back porch, watching the way that the sunset set Myka aglow in fiery waves, the light shading through her curls making her look practically ethereal. She took a deep breath, hand drifting to pat against her pocket, _just to be sure._

“You know I can feel you hovering back there.” Laughter danced through Myka’s words and that somehow put Helena at ease, all of her nerves gone in an instant. 

Helena moved to stand in front of Myka, earning her a rather curious look. 

“You’re kind of blocking the view there, Hel.”

“Just give me…one moment, darling.” She had planned on being coy, on prolonging the moment, but looking at Myka now, the amusement toying at the corners of her mouth, the gentle ease of her muscles, how happy she seemed, Helena didn’t want to wait. She extracted the box from her pocket and knelt quickly down, quietly delighting in the sharp intake of breath such a movement pulled from Myka’s lungs. She smiled up at her, “I had planned out this big, dramatic display; I had so many things I had wanted to say, but somehow…looking at you, I can’t remember any of them at the moment. I love you, Myka, ardently, passionately, unendingly, and I want nothing more than to see where the next adventure leads us. I want nothing more than you, by my side, for every last thing this world can throw at us. So, I would ask, if you would please do me the honor of being my wife?” She cracked the box open carefully, her heart thudding in her ears so loudly she feared she wouldn’t hear Myka’s response.

Luckily, she didn’t need to hear anything. Myka tugged her up by her elbows and pulled her in for a kiss that threatened to stop her breathing entirely. Only after a few, long, admittedly devilishly enjoyable moments, did Myka pull away, barely, just enough to state plainly, fully, “Yes,” against Helena’s lips, before joining them together again.

They missed the entire rest of the sunset that night, but Helena found she didn’t mind. She could feel it against her back, pounding a steady warmth against her that was as sure and as certain as Myka’s hands tangled in her hair. Idly, she wondered if she should have done this at _sunrise_ , at the time of beginnings, but then she figured that she and Myka had never done anything _conventionally_ , and decided from then on that sunsets were going to be her new favorite kinds of beginnings.


End file.
